


angry violins

by ashensunsets



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Anger, Angst, Family, Role Reversal, U.S. Navy SEALs, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 19:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18947530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashensunsets/pseuds/ashensunsets
Summary: "'I'll make it up to her.' He pulls away then, adjusts the strap of his backpack, and stares out at the lot across the street. This time tomorrow, this won't be his life anymore. No more bonfires, no more all-nighters, no more dates at the roller rink. Come sunup, he'll be a different man, and all of this will be someone else's dream.Tomorrow, everything changes.'I'll drive you', Okoye says, and T'Challa doesn't refute her.". . .A role reversal in which T'Challa is Erik, the remaining Udakus live in the U.S., and Okoye is worried.





	angry violins

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So I wrote a au thingy about this on my tumblr a few days back, only it didn't save (?). I just went and posted it again if you wanna see me talk more about it. My tumblr name is ashensunsets, and it's a mess so have fun with that.  
> Anyway, I got to thinking about T'Challa and Erik a little while back and was thinking about some posts I'd heard earlier, about how great a life Erik could have lead had he'd been given a chance and the support. Somehow, that got me to thinking about T'Challa and how he would have reacted to Erik's situation, and THAT got me thinking if their situations had been switched, how would that impact them as people; not just in terms of plot. And then that lead to this.  
> Speaking of which...

It's quick. Quick and simple, more so than he ever imagined it to be. A thirty minute bus ride to Oakland International Airport and then a near four flight to the NAVSTA in Illinois. He's got it all worked out. He's talked to a recruiter, filled out his application, and passed the MEPS. He's got his bags packed and his heart set. He's ready. Just like that, everything he's been dreaming of for the past ten years is laid out before him like a silver platter, his for the taking. There are more steps to be made, more ranks to climb, of course. But once his plane lands, that'll be it. There's only one place this path leads to, and it leads to the one thing he's cared about since that night in their old apartment.

T'Challa fingers his father's ring; he swallows down the bile rising in the back of his throat, twists the ring about his middle finger, and lifts his backpack from the floor. He crosses the room, the small, cramped, barely inhabitable living room in three swift steps and, quietly, so as not to awaken the others, he pulls open the door.

On the other side, with eyes that are not at all surprised, there stands Okoye, illuminated by the flickering, yellow lights casted above her.

"Bast", T'Challa curses. "Okoye, listen. I ain't-"

Okoye lifts a finger to her lips. She reaches for his wrist, and T'Challa lets her. "You'll wake your mother and sister. Come."

"Okoye-"

"T'Challa." She gives him a stern glare. Her eyes, usually so clear and focused, look weary, tired, exhausted. Of all the times she's caught him sneaking off, she's never allowed him to see her like this, never allowed her to see just how much it all wears on her.

He nods, and he steps out the door, silently following her until they're sitting on the stoop before their apartment.

Discreetly, T'Challa rolls up his sleeve and peers down at his watch. _11:23_ ; his bus leaves in 22 minutes. If this drags out too long, he'll have to run to catch it.

"I know your bus is coming", Okoye says, staring out at the empty lot across the street. There's a group of kids there, dancing around a burning pile of tires. Vaguely, T'Challa knows them. A few from grammar school, a handful from wrestling, a two or three just from the neighborhood in general. After today, he'll probably never see them again.

Will probably never see anyone from here again.

"You ain't changing my mind", T'Challa mutters. "I made my decision, and I'm sticking to it."

"I know." T'Challa frowns and flicks his eyes towards her. Okoye just smiles, smiles like she knows everything. And as much as he sometimes hates her for it, he knows she usually does. "You're more like your father than you'll ever know. He, too, was stubborn as a mule." She lifts her hand to her breast and rests it there, like some sort of solace, some sort of comfort, lies within. T'Challa's seen the gesture countless times, has seen it in her, in his mother, hell, even in Shuri, little as she is. He could never understand just what it means, but, between the three of them, they all seem to draw something from it.

He wishes he was like that. Wishes that all he needed was a hand over his chest to calm the raging grief and fury within him. And wonders, faintly, just why he can't. Because to hear everyone tell it, his father, his uncle, his  _cousin_. They all have it.

Maybe it's just him. Afterall, his mother and Okoye haven't spent the last ten years with revenge on their minds and hatred in their hearts.

"Why are you here", T'Challa eventually asks. He knows Okoye better than to think she'd actually try to talk him out of this. He's not a kid anymore. Any decisions he makes, he does so with only his mother's objection, while Okoye attempts to only get him to further think them through.

Only, in this case, he's already thought it through. For the longest time, it's been the only thing he could think of. And judging by how Okoye's been watching him these last few weeks, she knows this.

So why is she here?

"What of your mother? And your sister?" Her voice is light, non-confrontational. She isn't angry, and T'Challa isn't sure if he's relieved or disappointed.

So he just shrugs. Shrugs because he honestly doesn't know what else to do. "I'll write. And I been saving up. Ma'll have enough to tide her over until another position opens up at the agency."

Okoye doesn't relent. "What of your mother and your sister", she repeats, slower, so that he can grasp what lies beneath. "What will happen to them when they lose you?"

At that, T'Challa freezes. It's for just a second, but a second is all he needs to get royally fucked over. Because in that second, he's thinking of Shuri running home earlier today, sporting a bright blue ribbon from the science fair and waving her hands erratically as she told him of all the nice things the judge had to say; he's thinking of momma, gently placing her hands over his own to teach him how to cut cabbage; he's thinking of the the three of them, blindly leading him into the kitchen to a giant chocolate cake for his eighteenth birthday and singing "Happy Birthday" in Xhosa, like he used to like.

It only takes a second for him to consider missing his bus and abandoning his plan.

Only a second, and he's left breathless and with a fear he hasn't known in a long time.

T'Challa rises to his feet, so quickly that he almost loses his balance, and steps away until his back meets the door. "They won't", he tells her, feeling less certain of himself than he's felt in years. "I'll-I'll be careful"

Okoye just watches him. Her face gets that look; the one when she's looking at Shuri and seeing their mother. "Your father said the same to us."

T'Challa presses himself further into the door. "My father", he hisses. "Was killed by his brother. He wasn't expecting it."

"Omncinci-"

"And now." A renewed sense of passion returns to him, flaring up in his chest like a relit candle. "Now, that piece of shit is sitting on the throne, all high and mighty cuz he opened Wakanda's borders while my father's body is rotting in a morgue somewhere." T'Challa huffs and shakes his head. "He wasn't ready. But I am." He presses a hand to his chest and then snatches it away. "I been preparing for this my whole life."

Okoye folds her arms over her chest. Even now, when the conversation's verged to where T'Challa's never allowed it before, she's calm and reserved, with only the slight narrowing of her eyes showing her discontent. "So that's it then?", she says evenly. "You're going to kill your uncle?"

T'Challa glares. "Call it poetic justice." He looks back down at his watch. _11:30_. "Kanina, I don't have time for this. My bus-" He looks up and, just like that, Okoye's face has changed, revealing for a split second, the worry that's raging behind her eyes. A split second because in the next, it's gone, hidden away like a dark room behind red bricks and drying cement, only to again see the light of day by those that know where to look.

He'll never admit it. But for all they say that he is his father's son, T'Challa can't help but look at Okoye and sometimes see himself. "I'll be careful", he tells her, softer now. He pushes himself off the door and wraps his arms around her. For a moment, Okoye is still. Then, closing her eyes, she reaches her arms up and around his neck and leans against him.

"There is an oceanful of forgiveness within your mother's heart", Okoye whispers into his ear. She doesn't need to finish. He knows what she means.

"I'll make it up to her." He pulls away then, adjusts the strap of his backpack, and stares out at the lot across the street. This time tomorrow, this won't be his life anymore. No more bonfires, no more all-nighters, no more dates at the roller rink. Come sunup, he'll be a different man, and all of this will be someone else's dream.

Tomorrow, everything changes.

"I'll drive you", Okoye says, and T'Challa doesn't refute her.

It's the quickest drive of his life, and it's not long enough. On the way there, he sees the old McDonald's, the arcade, the laundromat, the liquor store, he sees it all, and he thinks, _I'm never gonna see this again_. Not because he's gonna die (because he intends to live, he intends to survive this crusade) but because, after he finishes this, he's gonna move them all out here and into a nicer neighborhood. Not Beverly Hills nice, he doubts they could live in that.

Fermont, though.

Regardless, he sees a life after this. He isn't quite sure what he'll do it with it, but he doesn't want to die with this. Somedays, he thinks he does, but when he's clear-headed enough, he can make out a light at the end of this shitty tunnel.

For now, he's just gotta make it through.

"Okoye", T'Challa says, unstrapping his seat belt. He looks at her and, with eyes big and pleading, says, "Take care of them".

Okoye smiles. She reaches out and brushes the back of her fingers against his cheek. Her eyes are soft and half-lidded, staring out at him with a fondness so sweet and tender that T'Challa knows, even without asking, that she's seeing more of his father than himself.

"You're more like your father than you'll ever know."

They don't talk about it. His death, his murder, his assassination. Legally, T'Chaka Udaku was just another life lost to gun violence, and, obviously, there isn't anything elsewhere to suggest otherwise. If T'Challa hadn't come up from the court when he had, they would have never known the truth. And even now, it's only a small truth, a scanty truth, one that will only be complete once T'Challa tracks down his uncle and demands answers.

Whatever it was, whatever lead to a brother killing another, it must somehow remind Okoye of T'Challa because there are tears gathering in her eyes. Tears, which T'Challa has neither the time nor the heart for.

"Take care of them", he repeats.

He crawls out of the car, and he doesn't look back.

**Author's Note:**

> kanina means "aunt" in Xhosa.  
> omncinci means "little one" in Xhosa.  
> I'm using google translate, so if I fucked it up, let me know and I'll fix it.


End file.
